


Quidditch Injuries

by LeanaM



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Post-War, Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-09-20
Packaged: 2019-03-26 14:47:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13859976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeanaM/pseuds/LeanaM
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts after the War, studying for her NEWTS and taking on a Healer's apprenticeship. Draco Malfoy's also back, dividing his time between the Quidditch pitch and frequent stays in the hospital wing. Something's bound to happen. Three-Shot.





	1. Autumn Term

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a prompt by riddelsgurlforever on tumblr for the February 2016 #dhrfavorites prompt exchange. It's published way too late but that was the inspiration.  
> Prompt: Students are allowed to come back to Hogwarts for their 8th year, after the war. Draco has also returned, granted leniency for defecting. Hermione takes on an internship with Madam Pomfrey as she resolves to become a healer after the horrors she's witnessed in the war. Draco keeps himself busy with Quidditch. Perhaps one day Draco gets injured and has to be cared for by Hermione? What ensues after this?

* * *

 

**Spring Term**

* * *

 

**September**

"Apprentice Granger, will you join me in the infirmary please?"

Madam Pomfrey's voice drifted into the small office where Hermione was making more Skele-Gro. The school stock seemed to be rapidly dwindling, even though the new school year had only just begun.

Hermione grabbed her wand, put a stasis spell on the cauldron and straightened her light blue healer's robes before she walked out of her office and into the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey was standing next to a bed at the far end, her body hiding the patient on the bed from view. As she walked nearer, her heart beat rapidly. Would this be the moment when she'd really start to learn about healing? She'd taken up the apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey because she wanted to become a Healer, and Madam Pomfrey was arguably the best. But the first weeks had been nothing but making third year potions like Skele-Gro and ointments for boils. She knew how to do those in her sleep.

When she neared the bed, she saw the patient and gasped.

"Malfoy! What happened?"

He had a split lip, blood stains on the front of his green quidditch robes and bruises beginning to colour his cheekbones and eyes.

Malfoy glared at her. "Quidditch accident," he muttered, wincing as his lips started bleeding again from the movement.

"I'd like you to perform the diagnostics on Mr. Malfoy, please, Apprentice Granger," said Madam Pomfrey, gesturing at the patient on the bed. She took a step back, to give them all the space they needed.

Hermione stared at Malfoy, momentarily distracted by the blood dripping from his nose and lips.

"While we're still young, Granger," he snapped, and she blinked in surprise.

" _Dolorem revelio_."

Hermione watched as the spell took effect, highlighting different parts of his body and face. She no longer saw him, but a puzzle she was anxious to solve. Her heart beat rapidly as she tried to distinguish the different injuries.

"Cracked rib. Sprained wrist. Split lip. Lost a molar, some loose teeth. Broken nose. Lots of bruising in the face and some on the back of his head. No concussion, though." She turned to Madam Pomfrey with a smile, as if proud to have completed the exercise. Then she shook her head, remembering he was not just some theoretical problem, but a patient, and seriously injured at that.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, you must be in a lot of pain. I'll get you a pain potion and we'll start healing you."

She hurried to the cupboard, took a few potions and returned to the bed.

"Explain to me what you would do to heal Mr. Malfoy," Madam Pomfrey interrupted.

"Oh. Right. I brought a pain potion so the patient feels more comfortable while we're healing him. I also have a diluted version of Skele-Gro for the cracked rib. The full-strength version isn't necessary for that. I would repair the facial injuries with spells. And a few drops of Denta-Gro can take care of the teeth."

"Not bad, Apprentice Granger," Madam Pomfrey said, then gesturing at the patient sitting on the bed, "Go ahead."

"What?"

" _What_?"

"You're letting me heal him?"

"You're letting _Granger_ heal me?"

They looked at each other with mirroring faces of horror. Then Hermione's face morphed into the professional mask she'd put on while diagnosing him, and she turned to Madam Pomfrey.

"Are you sure, Madam?"

"Of course, Apprentice Granger. These are minor injuries, I'm sure you can handle them. I'll be right here to intervene, of course, should anything go wrong. But I'm confident everything will be fine."

Malfoy opened his mouth to object, but before he could get a word out, Hermione had pressed the pain potion to his lips.

"Swallow this, Mr. Malfoy, then I'll tend to your injuries," she said, her voice clinical and detached. He turned his face away.

"I'd rather you did this without, it makes me feel dizzy and sleepy."

Hermione pursed her lips but put the cap back on the vial and placed it on the bedside table.

"Your call. It's right there if you change your mind."

Then she set about casting _episkey_ to set his nose, and _sanentur_ to ease the bruising and heal the lips. Although the process was very painful, her patient never uttered more than a hiss. Whenever she glanced at him, she saw his grey eyes following her every move, and it made her feel jittery.

"Open your mouth, please."

"What now?"

"I want to heal your teeth, Mr. Malfoy. Open your mouth, please." Her voice didn't betray any irritation.

He opened his mouth a fraction, and she gently pried it open further, dabbing Denta-Gro along the loose teeth and leaving a larger dose where he'd lost his molar. The teeth snapped into place with an audible crunch. She knew it must hurt, but he just sat on the bed, immobile and quiet.

"The tooth you lost will grow overnight. I think it's best you stay here for the duration. And do take that pain potion, Mr. Malfoy, or you won't be able to sleep," Hermione said, now moving on to his ribs and wrist.

"You also need to take this dose of Skele-Gro to heal your rib, that will be done by tonight, as it isn't a very large crack. I'm going to spell some bindings around your wrist, it should be fine by tomorrow. _Religo."_ She watched as a bandage tied itself tightly around his wrist, and then gave him the Skele-Gro. Finally, she cast a quick _tergeo_ to get rid of the bloodstains. "Does it hurt anywhere else?"

Malfoy snorted, then winced. He'd forgotten about that cracked rib. "Why, yes, Granger. My eyes still hurt with the sight of you. Do try and get that hair under control, will you? I'm sure it's a health hazard all by itself."

Hermione considered retaliating but then reminded herself that she was supposed to be a professional, and above petty insult trading.

"Glad to hear you're feeling better," she said instead, with a sugary sweet smile that made her own teeth hurt. "Make yourself comfortable on the bed, Mr. Malfoy, you're spending the night in the infirmary."

Then she turned on her heel and went back into her office.

* * *

 

**Interlude: studying**

She stared out the window of her room, the highest room in the West Tower. When she came back for her Eighth Year, she also asked for a Healer's apprenticeship with Madam Pomfrey. Since that made her staff as well as a student who was of age, she'd received her own rooms in the staff quarters. She liked the view from the West Tower, and didn't even mind all the stairs she had to climb every day. The new room also didn't remind her so much of the friends who had decided not to come back, like Gryffindor Tower. Or the friends who never had the choice in the first place. The West Tower was new territory, no memories to haunt her and no ghosts to keep her company.

She knew she should be studying, she was taking eight NEWTs this year, after all, but her attention was drawn again and again to the flash of green and silver flying around the Quidditch pitch. He always seemed to be flying these days. She never cared for Quidditch and never liked flying, but watching _him_ fly was different. In the air, he was poetry incarnate. He looped around the field, twirling and diving and rolling around in intricate patterns that mesmerised her.

It became increasingly difficult to tell herself she still hated him, when he was in the hospital wing more often than in the Great Hall. Especially because no matter how painful his injuries, he would refuse a pain potion and suffer quietly. It was so much unlike the whinging brat who had claimed to be dying after Buckbeak had given him a scratch on his arm, that she was forced to consider he might have changed in other ways as well.

She watched him fly until the sun set, and it became too dark for her to make out any shapes or colours. She wondered if quidditch was an escape for him, like healing had become for her.

* * *

 

**October**

"In here again, Mr. Malfoy? This must be the sixth time since the beginning of the year!"

"Happy to see you too, Granger. Get on with it, will you? This fucking hurts."

She performed the diagnostics spell wordlessly this time.

"Broken arms, broken ribs, lots of bruising. What happened this time?"

He gave her a level stare. "Quidditch accident," he bit out through clenched teeth.

He always said it was a Quidditch accident. She knew he was lying. He was trying too hard to seem sincere.

"Another one?"

"It's a dangerous sport, Granger, you should know, old Scarhead had enough accidents on the pitch."

She ignored his dig at Harry.

"You sure have a lot of quidditch accidents for someone who isn't even on his House team."

He looked away now, his face still carefully expressionless.

She shook her head, resigned.

"Pain potion?" she asked.

"Just fix me."

"It'll hurt."

"I can handle it. Just give me the fucking bone potion."

She shrugged, summoned the Skele-Gro and held it to his mouth.

"Swallow it all up, I'll get you some pumpkin juice after."

He did as he was told, and apart from a twist of his lips, he didn't react to the foul taste.

"I'm going to take care of your bruises now," she said, pointing her wand at his face, first. He glanced at her with an unreadable expression, then sighed and closed his eyes. She traced her wand along his face and body, muttering the spell over and over.

She turned away when she was finished, ready to go to the Great Hall for dinner, but he stopped her.

"Stay, please."

She turned back, surprised.

"Why?"

"I can't eat on my own. Broken arms, remember?" He laughed, as if embarrassed for his helplessness.

"Madam Pomfrey is always here, she can help you."

His laugh faded quickly. "Fine. Go. See if I care."

Hermione conjured a chair next to the bed and sat down.

"I don't mind staying. I'm sure the house elves will bring enough food for two."

As soon as she'd spoken, a tray appeared, two large bowls of soup and a rack of buttered toast hovering in front of her. She grinned at him.

"See, now I have to stay and feed you." She conjured a table for the tray, then fluffed up the pillows behind his back and helped him sit up a little straighter. Feeding him was oddly intimate. They didn't talk during the meal.

As soon as they were finished, the tray disappeared and she banished the table.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, Draco." The words were out of her mouth before she realised it, and she blushed. He quirked up one corner of his mouth in a half-smile that was oddly endearing. _I did NOT just think he was endearing._

"On a first-name basis now, are we?"

"I… That is to say… I…"

"Don't worry about it, Hermione." She flushed even more when he said her name. "I don't mind. You are my personal healer, after all." And he winked. _Winked._ She was mortified.

"I need to go. Homework and all. You better stay the night, and there's a pain potion right here if you need it." It took a lot of effort to put the professional Healer mask back on.

"Hermione…"

She really didn't want to hear what he might want to say, and just kept talking while she walked towards the doors.

"If you need anything at all tonight, Poppy… I mean, Madam Pomfrey will be in the little room just off the infirmary."

He scoffed.

She whirled around, confused. "What?"

"Nothing. Goodnight, Hermione."

"No, seriously, why did you just… What did I say?"

Draco Malfoy leaned back in his pillows and closed his eyes, suddenly very tired. He could feel her staring at him, and then she finally turned around again and he listened to her footsteps until she reached the doors.

"Why do you think _you're_ the one who's always tending to me?" he muttered.

She looked over her shoulder, but his eyes were still closed, and she wondered if she'd imagined it. She wasn't sure what he'd meant, either, and felt even more confused than ever. When the doors shut behind her, she took two strides to the other side of the hall, and rested her forehead against the cool stone wall. She hated being so confused.

* * *

 

**Interlude: Hallowe'en**

She'd never dreaded anything as much as the Halowe'en Feast that year. The festival of the dead was celebrated all over Hogwarts, pumpkins and cobwebs in every nook and cranny, on every staircase and in every classroom. It was just so trivial, so _wrong_ , when not even six months before so many had _died_ in these halls and rooms. She'd known coming back would be difficult, but it had seemed to be fine, up until that moment.

All the students were so excited, there would be great food and even butterbeer, and it was rumoured the Headmistress had organised a band of Vampires to play after dinner. And while she couldn't think of anything but the bodies that had lined the Great Hall, the students joked about skeletons and zombies and spoke of nothing but food and parties.

She made it through dinner, though the food tasted of sawdust and ashes, but left the Great Hall as soon as the food disappeared. She collided with him in the doorway, and he reached out to steady her.

"Careful, Granger."

"Sorry, didn't see you. Excuse me."

She pushed out of the Great Hall and began to walk up the stairs.

"Everything alright?"

"Just fine. Tired." Why did he keep asking questions when she wanted to be left alone? She tried to walk faster but he seemed to keep up with her easily.

"You don't look alright."

"Just leave me alone, Malfoy."

"It's okay, you know, not to be alright. It's a difficult day for some people, the celebration of death."

She choked back a sob, but kept mounting the stairs, determined not to look back.

"Granger… Hermione…"

They'd reached the fourth landing now, and she turned around to face him. He sucked in a harsh breath when he saw the desperation on her face.

"Is there anything I can do?" he asked gently, reaching out hesitantly, as if wanting to comfort her but not sure how.

She shook her head.

"Just… Just leave me alone, Draco. I just want to be alone."

His hand dropped back to his side, and she saw a flash of what might have been disappointment in his eyes.

"Well, if there's anything else, let me know." His voice was tight.

"Why? Why would you want to help?"

"You help me every time I'm injured, don't you?"

She took a deep breath.

"I'm an Apprentice Healer, Draco. It's my job to take care of your injuries."

He took a step back as if she'd slapped him. Then his face morphed into a cold and aloof mask.

"Of course. Good evening, Apprentice Granger."

She could only stare at his retreating back in wonder.

* * *

 

**November**

_Miss Granger,_

_Please join me in the hospital wing at your earliest convenience._

_P. Pomfrey_

She'd received the note in the middle of Ancient Runes and bolted out of her chair, hurried excuses falling from her lips as she stuffed her quill and notes back in her satchel. She transfigured her black school robes in the light blue healer's robes as she ran along the corridors, dodging suits of armour and jumping over disappearing steps on the stairs to get to the hospital wing as quickly as she could. All day she'd had a horrible feeling, and she somehow knew she had no time to lose.

Draco Malfoy was lying on the bed, pale and still, his chest barely moving with every breath.

"Ah, Apprentice Granger, how good of you to come so quickly. Mr. Malfoy was brought in earlier, unconscious." Madam Pomfrey gestured at the still figure in the bed.

"What…. What's the diagnosis?" She was trying to get her breath under control, but it wasn't easy.

"I haven't cast the spell yet, Apprentice Granger. He is your patient."

Hermione stiffened, her mind putting together the pieces of a puzzle she didn't like the outcome of. She turned to her mentor, robes billowing with the sudden movement.

"What did you just say?" Her voice was flat and low, her eyes burning with rage.

"He's your patient, Apprentice Granger," Madam Pomfrey repeated, unconcerned.

"Have you cast any spell at all to make him more comfortable? Did you even check his vitals?"

Madam Pomfrey just raised an eyebrow. "He's your patient, Apprentice Granger," she said with deliberation.

Hermione turned back, closed her eyes for just a moment to allow the disappointment and anger to rage inside, then she pushed those emotions away and focused on Malfoy.

" _Dolorem revelio_."

She bit her lip as she watched, in horror, as the diagnosis presented itself.

"Broken bones. Ruptured muscles. Knees fractured. Cracked skull. Broken ribs. Lungs… Oh dear Merlin. _Stasis_ "

She looked over her shoulder at Madam Pomfrey. "When was he brought in?"

"About half an hour ago."

"His left lung was almost pierced by a broken rib. He could have died in the meantime. You took a Healer's Oath. It is your _duty_ to heal those in need. He was brought in here unconscious and you didn't even bother to check if he was at all injured? How can you turn your back on a student in need?" Hermione was yelling by now, oblivious to any other patients in the infirmary and her wand pointed at Madam Pomfrey. She was so outraged, she could have hexed the woman on the spot.

Madam Pomfrey turned white with anger. "He's a Death Eater," she hissed, "He let other Death Eaters into this castle. Werewolves, in _my_ school, among _my_ students. He's responsible for Albus' death. And do you have any idea how many students ended up in my care last year because of him? Do you have any idea how many I had to mend overnight, only to see them back in my wing a few days later? Do you have any idea what he _did_?"

Hermione glared at the woman.

"It doesn't matter. It's _over_ , we need to move on. If we all stay buried in the past, then it will just happen again and again and I won't stand for it. I _won't_ . He was tried before the Wizengamot and cleared. The war is _over_. And yet you refuse to heal him. You always pass him onto me, don't you? I thought it was so I could learn more about healing, but it's so you don't have to treat him, isn't it? And if anything went wrong because I'm only an Apprentice, well, you couldn't care less, could you? And you pretended not to hear him when he was in your care, didn't you? Ignoring him when he asked for pain potions or help with dinner? I should have known…" She took a deep breath, reeling from the sudden realisations.

"I will report you, Madam Pomfrey. You violated your Oath. I did not fight a war for this… this _ridiculousness_ to continue. I didn't fight a war just so there could be more hate and prejudice, so another group could become the outcasts. I wanted to become a Healer because I was done fighting, but if this is what peace is like, by Godric, I will fight again."

She swallowed, then continued, "I've established that someone used the Cruciatus curse on Mr. Malfoy, it accounts for the ruptured muscles and the strange angles of his broken bones. You refused to treat someone who was the victim of an especially vicious Unforgivable."

With a deep breath, she pushed past Madam Pomfrey, who was now staring at her, open-mouthed, and selected the potions she'd need to treat him.

Hermione sat on a hard wooden chair next to his bed, too exhausted to move, too exhausted even to transfigure the chair into something more comfortable. It had been brutal. Draco Malfoy was still in a magically induced coma so his body could recover more easily. She realised now she had almost lost him, and that made her feel all sorts of emotions she wasn't ready to acknowledge. She wouldn't let it happen again though. But first, first she needed to sleep.

* * *

 

**Interlude: Letters**

_Dear Harry,_

_How's Auror training going for you and Ron?_

_Hogwarts isn't too bad. It seems people have trouble letting bygones be bygones, though. Did we really fight a war only to have more prejudices, more hate, more anger in our world? I have so much to tell you, but we can catch up next weekend in Hogsmeade._

_I was wondering if you could bring Prongs' cloak and the map to our meeting. I'd like to borrow them for a while._

_See you soon!_

_Love_

_Hermione_

* * *

 

_To the General Council of Healers_

_Subject: Violation of Healer's Oath and Medical Malpractice_

_I am hereby filing an official complaint regarding the healing serviced of Poppy Pomfrey, Healer at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry._

_Ms. Pomfrey has repeatedly refused to treat one of the students in her care, Mr. Draco Malfoy. She has passed treatment for the patient onto myself, although I did not receive any instruction as to how to heal the injuries Mr. Malfoy sustained, and I am only in my first months of my Apprenticeship._

_Ms. Pomfrey has done this on eight occasions, and the latest one could have resulted in the death of the patient._

_Ms. Pomfrey refused to treat the patient when I asked for assistance, and when he was brought into the hospital wing unconscious, she didn't even cast a diagnostics spell, by her own admission, and waited almost thirty minutes before summoning me._

_When a Healer takes the Oath, they commit to assisting those in need, regardless of past or future, regardless of political inclinations or personal history._

_According to the Healer's Statutes, Art. 5 par. 8.3b, refusing to help the injured, in whichever circumstance, will result in the immediate retraction of a Healer's license._

_Mr. Malfoy and myself will be happy to testify if needed._

_Respectfully,_

_Hermione J. Granger_

_Apprentice Healer_

* * *

 

**December**

Harry had been reluctant to part with the Marauder's Map and his invisibility cloak, and Ron had stormed and raved about her "association with the ferret" as soon as she'd let Draco's name slip, but she wouldn't be Hermione Granger if she couldn't badger them both into agreeing.

Ever since Malfoy had woken up from his coma, she'd made an effort to talk to him more. The first time she'd taken the seat next to him in Arithmancy, he'd merely raised his eyebrows at her, then ignored her. Nobody ever sat next to him, and he didn't seem happy with the change.

The next time, she'd amiably started to discuss their homework, and though his answers were always short, she congratulated herself on having a normal conversation with him. They sat together in the library, quietly studying until they were chased out by Madam Pince. She joined him at the Slytherin table sometimes, ignoring the hateful looks of the other Slytherins. She even followed him out to the Quidditch pitch, cast a warming charm on herself underneath the invisibility cloak and read while he was flying. She followed him around under the cloak, for his own protection, hexing and jinxing anyone who lifted a wand against him. She was sure he suspected something, but he never said anything. Other students gave her strange looks when she accompanied him from one class to another, but she cheerfully ignored them and expertly dodged the tripping jinxes some of them tried to send at her.

He never initiated conversations, and he remained mostly monosyllabic, adopting a bored and even irritated demeanor whenever she came near him. It almost disheartened her, until one day she saw the flash of relief in his eyes when she settled across from him at dinner. It was gone before she could even be sure it had been there, but she quickly saw all the little signs that showed her he wasn't quite so against her company as he liked to pretend. An occasional touch guiding her out of the way of other students while she was walking and reading between classes, the set of his shoulders, not quite so stiff whenever she sat with him in the Great hall, the corner of his mouth quirking up just slightly, as if to suppress a smile. So she doggedly continued to seek out his company, and ignored the whispers and the stares.

And when she couldn't follow him around, she checked his dot on the Marauder's Map, telling herself she only wanted to be sure he was safe.

"You really shouldn't be doing this," he whispered one evening when she dumped her books on the other side of his table and settled down for another evening of work in the library.

"I assure you I need all the time I can have to study for NEWTs."

"That's not what I meant and you know it. People are gossiping, and it's your reputation on the line. You shouldn't spend so much time with me."

Hermione shrugged, took out her Astronomy notes and a new self-inking quill, and started making annotations.

"You know I couldn't care less about my reputation. I like spending time with you, you can keep up with me in discussions and usually you're a good study companion." She looked up from her notes, and said, with a cheeky smile, "When you're quiet, that is."

He scoffed, but turned back to his books and they worked in silence until most of the other students had left.

"You never did tell me who attacked you," Hermione said suddenly, pretending to flatten another scroll of parchment. She glanced up at him, and quickly back down at her notes after catching his scowl.

"I don't know what you mean."

She sighed and tried to catch his eye, but now he was the one studiously looking at his notes.

"It was a Cruciatus, wasn't it? I know it was. There was still an aura of a dark curse surrounding you and I know what the physical signs are. Why didn't you say anything? Don't you know who it was? Can't you remember?"

"That is neither here nor there, Granger. Many students here hate my guts and they don't like it any more than the rest of Wizarding Britain that the Wizengamot was so lenient with me. They want to see me punished for my many misdeeds."

"But you were acquitted!"

He shrugged. "Not in the court of public opinion."

"That's rubbish and you know it. We can't all start our own vigilante justice, that's even worse than having another band of Death Eaters roaming the country."

"It's life, Granger. All I have to do is survive the year, and then I'll be free to go wherever I want. France, or the States, or even Australia. And since I have my own brilliant personal healer, I'm pretty sure I can take whatever they try to throw at me here." He chuckled. "And it seems I have my very own personal guard dog, too, which doesn't give them many opportunities to throw any kind of curses at me. I'm safe enough."

Hermione could feel her face heating up, and looked away.

"You still should have said something. It isn't right."

Madam Pince came around the corner of an aisle just then and told them it was time to close the library. They started packing up, listening to her footsteps fading away.

"It doesn't matter. Whatever they throw at me, it can never be more painful than what I've already been through. But you really should think of yourself, Granger. Nobody's going to take you seriously as a Healer if you're associated with a Death Eater," Malfoy muttered.

"I'll take that chance."

"Sodding Gryffindors."

"Bloody Slytherins."

They smiled at each other.

* * *

 

**Finale: Mistletoe**

She didn't want to go home for Christmas. Her parents were still in Australia, oblivious to the fact they had a daughter in England, and it was just too painful to spend the holiday with Ron and his family. She arranged to see her friends in Hogsmeade on Boxing Day and assured them she really would prefer to spend the rest of the winter break at Hogwarts.

The castle was almost empty that year, the War too recent a memory for families to celebrate the holidays without their children.

Draco Malfoy was one of the few other students who remained behind, and the only one of the Eighth and Seventh years she shared any classes with.

They met in the library every day, talking about nothing but homework and research. They never talked about the attacks, which seemed to have ended, or Poppy Pomfrey's dismissal from Hogwarts, which hadn't endeared Hermione with either the staff or the students. There was a new Healer now, Madam Roseberry, who was fair to everyone. Hermione enjoyed her Apprenticeship much better now she was properly instructed and supervised. Of course, that Malfoy hadn't ended up in the hospital wing once since November was also a bonus. _Or was it? Of course it was. I don't want to see him in there. Not really._

They were walking down together for Christmas Eve dinner, when all of a sudden, an invisible wall seemed to block their path and close in on them. They looked up simultaneously, realising at once what the problem was. A sprig of mistletoe with glittering white berries dangled above their heads.

Hermione kept her eyes on the mistletoe and swallowed. She could feel Malfoy's eyes on her, but was unwilling to meet them.

"I guess we better…" She stopped and blushed.

"Yeah…"

She took a deep breath and turned towards him, eyes closed and mouth slightly open. He licked his lips, cradling her face in his hands, and bent down. Then he hesitated. She could feel his breath on her lips and wondered why he had stopped. She opened her eyes again and found his face only a hair's breadth away. His eyes seemed larger from up close, gleaming silver with specks of gold in the torchlight.

"Hermione," he whispered, so quietly she could have sworn she'd imagined it.

Then his lips were on hers, warmer than she'd expected, but unmoving. It was chaste and soft and infuriating and exhilarating all at once. Her heart seemed to skip a beat and then sped up, her breath hitched in her throat and her hands were moving to his shoulders without any conscious thought.

And then his lips were gone, and he rested his forehead against hers, his lips moving, forming words he couldn't quite say.

She gasped for breath, then her hand sneaked around the back of his neck and she drew him closer, kissing him again, moving their lips together, softly biting his lower lip, sucking it to ease the pain, then running her tongue over his upper lip.

A moan escaped from the back of his throat, and it seemed to startle him. He pushed her away.

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily and trying to make sense of what just happened.

"I'm sorry," he blurted out.

She blinked. "What?" Not exactly the words she'd expected to hear.

"I'm sorry. I know you don't feel… It won't happen again." He turned bright red, and started to walk away.

"Wait. What are you talking about?"

"You told me, remember, you're just doing your job, I don't mean anything to you. I know. I promise it won't happen again."

"When did I say that?"

"Hallowe'en."

"I was a little upset that day, Draco. And a lot has changed since then."

He swallowed, but still didn't look at her.

"How much?"

She sighed, exasperated. "How much what?"

"How much have things changed?"

She rolled her eyes at his back, grabbed his arm and pushed him against the wall.

"A lot, you idiot." She smiled at him, nudging her nose against his before she kissed him again.

This time, they didn't stop until Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and reminded them dinner was waiting for them in the Great Hall.


	2. Spring Term

**January**

"I want Madam Roseberry." The Hufflepuff crossed her arms and turned her head away from Hermione with a sneer. "I won't take any potions from  _ you _ ."

Hermione clenched her teeth and fought to keep the frustration from her face.

"Madam Roseberry left me in charge tonight and you have to take these potions to get the Dragon Pox under control."

"I won't take anything from a Death Eater's whore."

Hermione drew a deep breath, aware that the other Dragon Pox victims were listening intently, eager for some drama to liven up the dull days in their quarantined room. But she was a professional. She had to be. Madam Roseberry trusted her.

"Perhaps you have a fever, Miss Gorsley. It certainly sounds like you're quite delusional. I will have to seclude you from the other patients for observation, in case your symptoms worsen. We may have to send you off to St. Mungo's after all. Now take your medicine."

She held the vial of potions out to the recalcitrant child, but still she refused to take them.

"Go suck some Death Eater dick, you traitor. I'm not letting you poison me."

The words stung. They stung more than Hermione wanted to admit.

"I'm an Apprentice Healer and I have taken a Wizard's Oath to heal and relieve pain wherever I can. I'm not going to poison you, I just want you to take your potions so you can recover from the Dragon Pox and be on your merry way. Take. Your. Medicine."

"I don't believe you. You know what they say about sleeping in a snake's nest. You're just as bad as the rest of them, taking up with the enemy. I'm not taking anything you give me."

She had to remain calm and do her job, but her temper was threatening to get the better of her. She took another deep breath, pushed those emotions away, whipped out her wand and cast a Stunner at the girl, who stiffened, a look of surprise on her face. Hermione smiled kindly, though it took a lot of effort.

"I'm sorry, Miss Gorsley. I really need you to take your potion so I'm afraid I'll have to spell your mouth open and make you swallow. Don't worry, it won't hurt."

Hermione forced her mouth open with a nifty spell, tossed the contents of the vial into the girl's mouth and forced her to swallow. The girl couldn't move, but her eyes were open and she glared at her with such hatred that Hermione almost flinched away.  _ Almost. _ Summoning all her Gryffindor courage, she squared her shoulders and walked towards the door of the quarantine room. Just before leaving, she turned on her heel and regarded the five students who were staring at her with varying degrees of fear and hatred.

"You seem to be forgetting who I am. I am Hermione Granger. I fought in the War that ended Voldemort's reign. I killed Death Eaters in battle. I spent that year at Harry's side. I don't care what happened to you last year. I just don't. I have my own demons to fight. But I've given up more than enough to save this thankless world, and I don't intend to give in to public pressure. The war is over. It's over and done with. So you can take your opinions about my personal life and bugger off. But if you dare imply again that I am not a trustworthy and professional Apprentice Healer, I will make you sorry you even breathe."

She closed the door with a quiet click, although she really, really wanted to slam it so hard it would break off its hinges, and cast disinfectant spells to get rid of the traces of Dragon Pox. Then she leaned against the wall and closed her eyes, fighting the angry tears that were welling up.

_ Traitor. _

When she'd kissed Draco, that blissful day in the middle of the Christmas holidays, she hadn't anticipated that the whispers and gossip would increase. It had been bad enough before Christmas, getting the cold shoulder when she sat with him to study. But the hostilities were worse, so much worse, ever since a fourth-year Ravenclaw had seen them kissing in the library. The rumour had spread like wildfire, of course, and when Ginny confronted her and she hadn't denied it, the attacks escalated.

_ Death Eater whore. _

Mostly they were rumours, that she was under the Imperius, that she had lost her mind in the War, that he was blackmailing her, that she was an idiot for letting him use her. And like the nine-headed Hydra of Lerna, firmly cutting off one rumour sprouted two more. It was a battle she soon gave up on fighting.

_ Slut. _

The insults were harder to deal with. They were whispered just loud enough for her to hear, but whenever she turned around to try and identify the culprit, the other students were deep in conversation with each other, and apart from a challenging smirk on all their faces, gave no indication who had uttered those hateful words. The Professors didn't hear - or pretended not to hear - and even on the few occasions she did know who had said it, she couldn't take points. She'd lost her Prefect badge, and she wasn't a full staff member either.

_ Disgrace. _

Draco never said "I told you so," but she could see it in his eyes whenever he tried to comfort her. Not the smug look she would have expected to see some years ago, on the rare occasions that he had one over her, but a knowing, contrite frown that told her he felt responsible for all the grief she was getting.

_ Hypocrite. _

Ginny didn't openly insult her, but she didn't defend Hermione either.

"It's your decision, Hermione, but I'm not going to stand here and support you while you throw your life away for nothing. Because mark my words, nothing will come of it," she'd said, after ranting about the Malfoys and everything Draco had and hadn't done the year before. Hermione didn't argue, she had no right to. She knew Draco had done horrible things, but she also knew he'd saved them at Malfoy Manor by not identifying them, and from their long talks she knew the war had changed him. The war had changed all the students, of course. But the wounds were still fresh, and, unlike Hermione and Draco, most of them were out for more blood. It made getting out of bed in the mornings harder. Her nights were wrought with nightmares and her days were a living hell. The only thing that kept her sane were the few hours they snuck away together, to study, to talk, to kiss and forget about what awaited them outside their room.

_ Mudblood. _

She appreciated their stolen moments even more because the whole school was begrudging them their happiness. She still had the Marauder's Map and Harry's cloak, and used them to meet Draco whenever she could. They converted an abandoned classroom into their secret hiding place, using the strongest wards they knew to keep them safe, and lost themselves in each other's arms as often as possible, to forget about a world that loathed them both, him for the choices he made as a boy, and her for the choices she made as a woman.

* * *

 

**Interlude: The Daily Prophet**

_ WAR HEROINE AND DEATH EATER - UNLIKELY ROMANCE? _

_ Remember War Heroine Hermione Granger, Order of Merlin First Class and steadfast friend of the Saviour of the Wizarding World, Harry Potter? The Golden Girl hasn't been seen in society for months, claiming the need to return to Hogwarts to finish her studies. An admirable goal, of course, but this reporter has heard that academics isn't the only reason the Gryffindor Princess returned Hogwarts. _

_ Reliable sources have confirmed that Miss Granger is in a relationship with convicted Death Eater Draco Malfoy, who is serving his house arrest at Britain's finest educational establishment. The two lovebirds started spending a lot of time together in November and December, and have been rumoured to be in a relationship since Christmas. _

_ Attentive readers may remember that Miss Granger was in a short-lived relationship with the brave and dashing Golden Boy Ronald Weasley, who started Auror training alongside Harry Potter after their triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Miss Granger declined any job offers, choosing instead to return to school, leaving a broken-hearted Ronald Weasley behind in London. _

_ Recent events suggest that the Brightest Witch of the Age may have had her eye on a new target. Draco Malfoy, who was marked a servant of the Dark Lord at sixteen, was acquitted in a quick trial this summer, where both Miss Granger and Mr. Potter testified. Perhaps this was the first step in their relationship? This reporter can only speculate, of course, but it is a fact that Miss Granger and Mr. Weasley broke up soon after the Malfoy trials, and Mr. Weasley refused to testify on the Malfoys' behalf at the time. _

_ Draco Malfoy, who was convicted for War Crimes but received an astonishingly light sentence, will be restored to the Malfoy fortune and take over as Head of one of the last Ancient and Most Noble of our Pureblood Houses at the end of his parole on his birthday. One could wonder how long the Malfoy bloodline will remain pure, now the Heir is in a relationship with the most famous Muggle-born Witch of our times. _

* * *

 

**February**

"Let's go to Hogsmeade today."

Hermione trailed her fingers over his stomach, suppressing a smile as the muscles twitched with the effort not to squirm under her light caress.

"Wouldn't we be better off staying here? It's the weekend before Valentine, the place will be swamped."

Hermione smiled and stole a kiss before answering.

"Harry and Ron are coming, I'd like to see them. And it would mean a lot to me if you'd come along and try to be civil."

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes.

"You want me to be nice to Pothead and the Weasel? Seriously?"

She poked his ribs sharply, then lay down next to him, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. She heard him splutter and knew it was more to rile her up than to really get her unruly hair out of his mouth. She'd braided it tightly, after all.

"Please, Draco? For me?"

When he sighed again, she knew he'd given in.

* * *

"Hermione!"

"Hey, 'Mione!"

Hermione turned around towards the voices of her two best friends and was engulfed in a tight group hug a moment later. She could feel the tension she hadn't even known was there dissipate from her shoulders.

"Harry! Ron! I missed you guys!"

They laughed and hugged again, until a discreet cough reminded them that they weren't alone.

"You remember Draco, I'm sure?"

Harry's smile faltered, but he stuck out his hand and said, "Malfoy. How are you?"

Ron's face turned into a frown, his blue eyes blazing with anger.

Draco shook Harry's hand and murmured a greeting. He nodded at Ron, but didn't offer his hand. Hermione watched the whole thing with bated breath, plastered a big smile on her face that belied the tension that had instantly made another appearance and hooked her arm into Draco's.

"Shall we go have a drink somewhere? I haven't seen Aberforth in a while, maybe we can go to the Hog's Head? How's Auror training going?" She led the way down the main road towards the dingy pub, keeping up a conversation with Harry while Ron followed them, glowering. They found a cosy nook for the four of them and settled around the table, Hermione tucking herself into Draco's side with a defiant look towards Ron, who seemed to get angrier every second. Harry ordered a round of butterbeers before joining them.

"And how have you been?" Harry asked.

"Shagging the Ferret much?" Ron bit out.

Hermione flushed with embarrassment and anger.

"Why, yes, Ronald, several times a day, if you must know," she snapped, her hand on Draco's leg tightening in warning.

"Ron…"

"No, Harry, let him speak. I'm sure he has a lot he wants to get off his chest," Hermione interrupted.

Ron stood up and slammed his fists down on the table.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, what are you thinking? The Ferret? Of all people? The one who called you Mudblood for years? The one who stood by as you were tortured? What's happened, the torture turn all your marbles loose? Is that why you didn't want us to give it a try? Was the Prophet right and have you been seeing him since last summer?"

Hermione stood, leaning on the table, her face inches from Ron's.

"This isn't about him, really, is it," she hissed. "This is about us breaking up."

"So what if it is? He's a fucking Death Eater, 'Mione, how can you even stand the sight of him? How can you stand his touch?"

"I know perfectly well who he is and what he has done, Ronald. The difference between the two of you, is that he has changed, he learned from the past, and he's moved on. You are still the same as you ever were, with the same prejudices, the same hatred, the same irrational anger. Grow the fuck up."

She never noticed that he suddenly had his wand out. Draco was blasted against the wall, and Ron held him in a death grip not moments later, his wand pressing painfully into his neck.

"What the hell did you do to her, you little piece of shit. Imperius? Love potions? Mind alterations? Tell me!"

It took three wizards to get him off Draco, and after making sure he wasn't hurt, she stepped up to Ron and slapped him across the face. The sound resonated in the suddenly quiet room.

"I am NOT under the imperius. I am NOT potioned. I am fully aware of what I'm doing and I am not coerced in any way. I'm with Draco because I love him. The past doesn't matter. When will everyone just accept that the War is over and we need to move ON?" And with a frustrated scream, she grabbed hold of Draco, turned on her heel and apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.

"I suppose that could have gone worse," Draco said, holding her in a tight embrace.

Hermione laughed, because that was better than give in to the tears.

* * *

 

**Interlude: Valentine stargazing**

He blindfolded her and led her up the stairs, and up, and up, and up, carefully guiding her to make sure she wouldn't trip. She bit her lip and gripped his hands so tightly she was sure she was leaving bruises, but putting so much trust in him was difficult, even though she knew, she knew he wouldn't hurt her. When they finally stopped, slightly out of breath and muscles burning from the exercise, she let out a sigh of relief. He startled her when his lips were suddenly moving softly, enticingly, teasingly against hers and she almost didn't notice that he'd loosened the knot in her blindfold while he was distracting her.

She blinked a couple of times at the sight before her. They were standing on a platform at the top of the West Tower, overlooking the dark mass of Hogwarts Castle and the lake reflecting the stars. He'd placed torches at the edges and a picnic blanket on the floor, an array of fruit and chocolates on a tray, and a bottle of champagne on ice.

He shifted nervously from one foot to the other, and she looked at him, unable to disguise her delight. The insecure and vulnerable look on his face made her heart clench and she stepped up to him and pressed her lips against his, her arms twining around his neck and pulling him closer and closer still.

"You're such a sap," she whispered while trailing kisses across his jaw and neck and nipping at his earlobe. His arms snaked around her waist and he leaned heavily into her.

"Too much?"

"Just perfect," she said.

After feeding each other fruit and chocolates with the most surprising and delectable fillings, they extinguished the torches and lay down on the blanket, fingers intertwined and heads close together, pointing out the constellations.

"I like looking at the stars," he said quietly. "They never judge. It makes me feel free."

She squeezed his hand, but said nothing, her eyes fixed on the Draco constellation in the sky above.

* * *

 

**March**

"Why do you keep letting them get away with this?"

"Merlin's saggy tits, Hermione, not this again."

Draco sighed and turned his head away at Hermione's angry huff. He winced as his ribs shifted and cracked and mended under her spells. She'd not even offered him a pain potion this time.

"One day I'm just going to let you lie in this bed and have your injuries mend the Muggle way, slowly and painfully," Hermione said, scowling.

"Ow, woman, watch what you're doing," Draco exclaimed when she prodded one of his bruises a little too forcefully.

"If you'd watch what you were doing and not go around inviting people to hit those bloody bludgers at you, you wouldn't be lying here in the first place," Hermione snapped.

Draco felt the anger boiling beneath his skin but bit his tongue. He still refused to look at her, and only turned his head when she stopped casting spells at him. She stood with her back to him, her arms wrapped around herself and her head bowed. Only when she turned back to continue, he realised that she was fighting tears.

"I just wish this wouldn't happen every time you go out to fly."

Draco shook his head and held out his uninjured hand towards her. She threaded her fingers through his and sat down carefully on his bed.

"What would you have me do, Hermione? Not fly at all? Why should I give up flying? And what will be next if I do give in?"

His voice was gentle, but there was a sharp edge to it that betrayed his anger.

"But you just let them. You just let them hex you and jinx you and use you for bludger target practice. Why don't you stand up to them?"

Draco snatched his hand away, his patience fraying at the edges.

"You know I can't draw my wand and cast any spell outside classes. They'll send me back to Azkaban in a heartbeat."

Hermione straightened her back and tucked a stray curl behind her ear with precise and sharp movements.

"You can't let them get away with this," she repeated, stubbornly.

"I'm not some sodding Gryffindor, Hermione. If you want bold and brash you should look elsewhere."

She glared at him and reset the bones in his hand with a well-aimed spell without warning him. The pain burned through his fingers and arm all the way to his shoulder, and he hissed angrily. Then he took a deep breath and tried to regain his composure.

"It's March. Only three more months and I'm free, and I'll never see any of those idiots again. I can survive three more months of this."

Hermione muttered something under her breath that he didn't quite catch, but Draco guessed it would be best if he didn't ask. They fought more and more often lately; he didn't want this to become yet another big row. She finished at last, and though still bruised and battered, at least his body was now humming with healing magic.

Hermione took his hand in hers again, her thumb tracing figures on the back of his hand.

"So what happens when we leave here, then? Do you think it's going to be better out in the real world? Do you think people won't try to curse you in the back for the crimes your family committed?"

Draco could feel his restraint cracking.

"Circe be damned, Hermione, can't you let this go?"

Hermione stood up, her foot stamping on the floor and squeezing his hand painfully tight.

"No, Draco, I won't let this go. You can't let this go on. You think it's bad here? You've seen the Prophet, you've seen the hate mail and Howlers. What do you think it's going to be like outside? You just keep turning away like it doesn't really matter, but what's going to happen if I'm not there? What if I can't get to you in time? Why do you keep putting yourself in danger?"

"Maybe I'll move to France, once my probation is over. The War didn't affect them and we still have friends."

"France? You never mentioned France before. When did you decide this?"

"Oh, I don't know. Just now? I haven't really thought about the future, Hermione, I'm more preoccupied with surviving the present."

"And what about me? Do I get a say in this?"

"What? What does that have to do with anything? You can do whatever you like. You're a Heroine of the War, any hospital or Healing school would be happy to offer you a place. You have the world at your feet, I stay here and I get spat on at every corner."

"So you just decided that, did you."

"Yes, yes I did."

"So if I wanted to train at St Mungo's you wouldn't stay here?"

"For fuck's sake, Hermione, you're the one who's banging on about what a terrible place the British Wizarding world is for me, and how everyone hates me. Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to send out applications for internships and being refused point-blank, with my grades and skills? Do you have any idea what it's like to be hated for being on the wrong side of the War by one half of society, and for sullying the bloodline by the other half? And what makes you think I would want to suffer all this for a Mudblood?"

As soon as the word left his mouth he knew he'd screwed up. He saw her face turn white, her lips pressed together tightly, her hands clenching into fists. And suddenly, with painful clarity, he knew he had to push her away. That theirs wasn't a love story that was meant to be. So he swallowed the apology that had almost fought its way out of his mouth and turned his face into a derisive sneer instead. "Go back to your good-for-nothing Gryffindors, Granger, like the good little heroine you are."

Hermione stalked out of the Infirmary, jaw clenched and eyes blinking furiously to stave off the tears.

He didn't call her back.

* * *

 

**Finale: Easter**

She'd thought that going back to the Burrow for Easter would be easier than to stay at Hogwarts. She'd been wrong.

School had become a special kind of hell since their break-up, with students whispering gleefully behind her back, and often simply in front of her. Madam Roseberry had tutted sympathetically and taken over Malfoy's care without complaint. She hadn't seen him since those hateful words had fallen off his lips. The scar on her arm itched constantly. So when Ginny invited her to come over for Easter, she accepted, hoping to get her mind off of everything.

Not that Harry or Ron said "I told you so" - though she was certain Ron had to physically stop himself from blurting it out sometimes - but it was in everything they did or didn't say. It was in every disappointed look, in every triumphant laugh they shared, in every gesture and word.

She poured herself into her exam prep, staying in the room she shared with Ginny and only coming out for meals. Nobody noticed she was wasting away.


	3. Summer Term

**April**

Hogwarts was different. Where before the school had managed to keep up the pretense that the War maybe hadn't been quite so bad as all that before, now that façade was tearing at the seams. The open hostility towards the Slytherins in general, and Draco Malfoy in particular, became more blatant every day. Or maybe she had just not noticed before, living in the safe bubble of Healer training and her own private quarters to study. She couldn't wait to leave.

In theory, she could, of course, take her N.E.W.T.s with the Ministry. She was nineteen now, she didn't have to stay. But Hermione Granger was not a quitter, and she refused to run away, no matter how much she wanted to. She'd see this year through to the end, no matter what happened. She wanted that graduation ceremony. She  _ deserved _ that graduation ceremony.

She turned a corner to take a shortcut through an abandoned and still mostly destroyed corridor to her own rooms in the West Tower and stopped dead in her tracks at the sight before her. A crowd of students from different Houses blocked the way. They were jeering and laughing and sending jinxes to… Was that Malfoy?

She'd ignored him, most of the time. He hadn't ended up in the Infirmary since she'd returned after Easter, and she hadn't taken her meals in the Great Hall all that often. She still had the Marauders' Map and used it to avoid running into him, although she didn't have to go through all that much trouble to do so. He seemed quite keen to avoid her, as well.

She'd drawn her wand before she knew what she was doing and pushed the students aside while she strode up to Draco, her eyes burning with fury.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she said, her voice quiet but still carrying in the suddenly silent corridor. She focused her attention on the main instigator, a Hufflepuff and the brother of Ernie MacMillan. Or was it his cousin? She didn't really know. She didn't care.

Nobody answered her. She turned around slowly, memorising the faces of each of the students.

"I've had enough of this shit. I will report you all to the Headmistress. I want some fucking peace and quiet for the rest of this year. Do whatever the bloody hell you want when I'm gone, but if one of you even so much as squeaks when I'm near, you'll regret the day you crossed my path. Ask Marietta Edgecombe what happens when you cross me. Am I making myself clear?"

Her magic flared with her anger, rattling the paintings on the walls. The younger students took a step back, and then another one. Most of them had never seen Hermione Granger do her worst, but they had heard stories. They sulked, grumbled and slunked away in small groups. When one of them muttered "Death Eater whore" as he walked past, she hit him with a bat bogey hex before he'd even finished speaking. They scattered quickly then.

Draco turned away, refusing to look at her.

"You shouldn't have done that."

"I'd rather not see you in the Infirmary."

She saw his lips twitch, and knowing that he'd almost smiled while she was still so angry, about their break-up, about the blatant bullying that went unpunished, about people unable to move on from the War, almost made her want to smack him. Again. It had been rather satisfying back in third year.

She stalked past him and disappeared in a secret stairwell that took her up to her own floor. She listened intently for footsteps, hoping he wouldn't follow her. Or maybe that he would. No - she didn't want to see him ever again. If only time would go faster. If only it was July already.

* * *

 

**Interlude: Forms**

She told herself when she was staring out the window of her bedroom that she was looking at the landscape. She loved how the mountains changed colour with the seasons, going from the dark greys and browns of winter to the bright yellows and fresh greens of spring.

She told herself that she wasn't looking at the lone figure flying around the Quidditch pitch in lazy circles, practicing elegant dives or fast turns, chasing a Snitch all on his own. She really wasn't. Her scar itched but she refused to scratch.

She forced herself to look at the stacks of parchments and books she had prepared for revision. N.E.W.T.s were coming up in May and she really needed good grades to get into the Healer programme of her choice. Madam Roseberry had given her a long list of credits and scores she'd need to get into the various programmes around the world.

Her eyes darted to the application forms she had been completing earlier: one for St. Mungo's, of course, and one for the Massachusetts Institute of Medicine and Healing, a world-renowned Healer training institute that combined Muggle and Magical methods. Her hand hovered over the application form for the Hopital Jeanne D'Arc in Paris. She hadn't started on that one yet. She had no reason to. And yet her hand hovered, indecisively, over that form, while her eyes went back to the flash of green and silver that zoomed around the pitch, almost of their own volition.

She didn't notice she had started crying until the tears dripped down on her revision notes and blotted the ink into unreadable splotches.

* * *

 

**May**

Hermione opened her eyes with difficulty. It was as if someone had spellotaped them shut. But as soon as the harsh white light hit her, she squeezed them shut again. Her head was pounding and everything hurt. Someone let go of her hand. She hadn't even noticed she'd been holding hands until she felt the cold emptiness that the removal left behind. By the time she opened her eyes again, she was alone in the Infirmary.

Madam Roseberry came bustling out of her office and immediately cast the diagnostics spell at her.

"What's wrong?" she'd wanted to ask, but all that she managed to do was croak unintelligibly.

She drank some water when prompted and waited patiently until the Healer had finished before trying again.

"What happened?"

Madam Roseberry stroked her cheek, an uncharacteristically kind gesture of a woman who was not normally overly familiar with anyone.

"You were hit by two curses at the same time. You threw up a protective shield but the curses connected and the combined strength shattered your shield. You blacked out, luckily."

Hermione swallowed and winced, her throat raspy and aching.

"That's not really an answer."

Madam Roseberry smiled. "No, it wasn't. The curses combined into a curse that made your body boil from the inside. You were quite lucky I was there immediately to stop the progress of the curse. Your lungs had almost burst and you were bloating from the heat the spell had generated."

"I should have died," said Hermione, her tone detached yet slightly curious.

"Yes. But thanks to our quick actions, you didn't."

"Thank you."

Madam Roseberry only shook her head.

"You still need to rest, Hermione. Try to get some more sleep." She refilled Hermione's glass and placed some vials with pain relief potions on her bedside table as she spoke. Then she turned around to leave, but a panicked exclamation stopped her.

"Wait! What day is it? How long have I been out? What about N.E.W.T.s?"

Madam Roseberry couldn't help but laugh softly.

"Don't worry. You've only been out three days. You'll be up and about again in time to take your exams."

Hermione nodded, thoughtfully.

"Someone was here when I woke up."

"Yes."

"You're not going to tell me who it was?"

"Do I really have to, Hermione? Are you sure you don't already know?"

And with that, the Healer disappeared into her office again.

When she woke up again, it was the middle of the night and Draco Malfoy was slouched in a chair beside her bed, asleep, his fingers curled around hers. She studied him without moving. She'd jumped in front of those curses for him, even though he'd treated her like dirt, tossed her aside like a broken wand. And yet here he was. Here she was, in the Infirmary, recovering from a curse that had been meant for him. She could feel the tears sliding down her cheeks and tried to wipe them away without waking him, but he must have sensed something, because his fingers momentarily tightened around hers before he sat up, blinked sleepily and sent her a smile that really shouldn't have sent her heart racing.

"Hey."

She didn't smile back.

"What are you doing here?"

His smile faltered and his hand let go of hers. She instantly felt cold again.

"Just making sure you're safe."

She norted. "Fine guard you are, falling asleep on the job."

He shrugged, looking sullen now. "I put up wards. I would have woken up before anyone even reached the door."

She was too confused, too hurt still, to understand. She turned the pain into anger. It was easier.

"I thought I said I didn't want to see you in the infirmary again." She flinched at the harsh tone of her words but didn't take them back. She watched as he sat back, stunned, a mix of emotions she didn't want to acknowledge crossing his face. Then he nodded and rose from his seat.

"Fine."

He walked slowly towards the door, as if hoping she'd call out after him and she had to bite her tongue to refrain from doing so. She wouldn't fall for him again. She didn't care.

Madam Roseberry discharged her a few days later, two weeks before N.E.W.T.s started. Hermione hadn't seen Draco again. When she left the infirmary, there was a chair standing next to the door. She looked at it in confusion, and then turned back to ask Madam Roseberry what it was for. There had never been a chair in that corridor before.

"Oh, lass. He sat in that chair every night you were here."

She almost regretted sending him away.

* * *

 

**Interlude: N.E.W.T.s**

Hermione was a mess during the last weeks of N.E.W.T prep. She ran from one class to another, frantically going over her notes and re-reading her textbooks until well into the morning. He had left a stack of notes on the desk in her room that covered the classes she had missed when she was in the hospital, and she ignored the way it made her heart flutter in her chest. She didn't have time for feelings now.

When Draco sat down at her table in the library, she didn't ask him to leave. They didn't talk about anything but their classes, and Hermione felt like they were almost back on the same footing as they had been before the Christmas holidays. It was familiar and comforting in the chaos that was exam prep at Hogwarts.

And then N.E.W.T.s were upon them, too soon and yet not over soon enough. She plowed through one day after another, one exam after another, on too little sleep and too much Pepper-up potion to be entirely healthy.

When it was over, finally, blissfully over, she slept through the weekend, doors locked, Floo disconnected and the strongest wards she had been able to conjure protecting her from interruptions. She'd never know how many times he'd knocked on her door.

* * *

 

**June**

"We need to talk."

Hermione sighed, placed the bookmark between the pages of her book, closed it and carefully placed it back in her bag. Only then she looked up at Draco, squinting against the sun.

"That sounds ominous. Whenever a guy says that in those silly TV shows it means he wants to break up with their girlfriend. But we've already broken up, so I'm not sure what else you want."

She hadn't meant to sound catty.

He slumped, running his hand over his face and through his hair with rigid, sharp movements that betrayed how tense he was.

He kneeled down beside her, sitting back on his heels and bit his lip, searching her face for a sign of… she didn't know what. Now she didn't have to squint up into the sunlight any more, she could see the dark shadows under his eyes and the worry lines on his forehead.

"I'm so sorry." The pain and desperation in his voice gave her hope she didn't want.

"What for?"

He sighed and tilted his head to the side as he looked at her. Their eyes met and she couldn't look away.

"I'm sorry I was such a prick. I'm sorry I called you that foul name. I'm sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I gave up on us. I'm sorry I'm such a coward. I'm sorry you got hit by those curses. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you. I'm so, so sorry, Hermione. For everything."

She held her breath as he spoke and released it with a hiss when he finished.

"It's easy to say you're sorry."

He scoffed. "Not really, actually. The more you mean it, the harder it can be to say the words."

She smiled and looked down, her hand toying with the grass underneath.

When the silence became unbearable, he shifted to sit across from her and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off.

"I know you're sorry. I've known since I woke up in the Infirmary and saw you there, sleeping in that uncomfortable chair."

He shook his head with an incredulous look.

"Then why didn't you say something sooner? Is it…" He hesitated, his fists clenching in the grass. "You can't forgive me, can you? That's why you've been ignoring me. I'm sorry, I should go. I didn't mean… I didn't expect… I'm sorry. I won't bother you again."

He made to get up, but a hand on his arm stopped him.

"I just needed some time, Draco. And I thought you'd understand, with N.E.W.T.s coming up, I couldn't afford to… to get too emotional. I wanted to wait until after the exams to deal with our..." She gestured between them, searching for the right word.

"Mess?" he suggested, and she nodded with a laugh.

"I thought you understood that I'd mostly forgiven you when we studied together."

"I knocked on your door after the exams but you never answered."

"I slept. I put up wards so I wouldn't be disturbed. I was going to look for you later, but you found me first."

He nodded, his shoulders less tense than they had been before.

"You said I'm mostly forgiven."

She nodded.

"So not entirely?"

She took a deep breath and bit her lip before answering, an apologetic look on her face.

"Not entirely," she said.

"So where does that leave us, then?"

Her hand slid down his arm and intertwined with his.

"Give it some time. We need to learn to trust each other again."

He couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he squeezed her hand in response. She didn't pull away.

* * *

 

**Grand Finale: Graduation**

Hermione put on her Hogwarts robes for the last time. She placed the hat on her head, securing it in her hair with some bobby pins. Any spells always made her hair more unmanageable so she had to do it the Muggle way.

She turned around when she heard the knock on her door and saw Draco leaning against the doorframe. She smiled at him.

"Fetching," he said, an edge of mockery to his tone. "Ready for your grand speech?"

She walked over and bumped her fist into his shoulder.

"Don't remind me. They'll hate me for what I'm going to say."

Draco laughed and offered his arm, which she accepted.

"I can't wait to see McGonagall's face when you hit her with that Muggle quote."

" _ The standard you walk past is the standard you accept, _ " she declaimed in a dramatic voice. Then she shrugged. "Nobody listened when I told them to move on from the War and not let it poison the present even more than it already has. They'll have no choice but to listen now."

Draco helped her jump over a disappearing step and they finally reached the entrance hall, where they headed towards the door. As the oldest students at Hogwarts - and Hermione being the one to give the Graduation speech - they would lead the other graduates out onto the great lawn, where the ceremony would be held.

"You know they'll forget as soon as you're finished, don't you?"

"Oh, I know. But that doesn't mean I can't have some fun shaming them all."

He looked at her with bright silver eyes and a mischievous smile.

"You're more Slytherin than I thought."

She smiled back.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"It was meant to be."

They waited for the doors to open, impatient now to get it over with and get started on the next chapter in life.

"So are you really moving to France?"

He stiffened and looked away.

"It still seems like a prudent choice. The Ministry has already given their permission. I will leave in August."

The doors opened and they began their procession, over the courtyard through to the Great Lawn where a massive tent had been put up to provide some shade - or cover against the rain - to the parents and teachers who attended. Hermione pasted an icy smile on her face when they reached the back rows and she saw the incredulous and rude stares of those who recognised Draco. She entwined their arms even closer and dared anyone to comment. Right before they reached the front rows, where they would be sitting, she leaned over to him and whispered in his ear: "I've been accepted at Jeanne D'Arc in Paris. So maybe we'll see each other there."

Draco stared at her, eyes wide, smile even wider, all through the graduation ceremony. He hadn't felt this happy in a long time.


End file.
